My December
by drey'auc475
Summary: December, a time to reflect on the memories…


**Title:** My December

**Author:** Drey'auc475

**HARRY POTTER**

**Rating:** K+

**Spoilers:** some for Book 6

**Genre: **Angst/Drama

**Setting/Season:** some years after Voldemort is dead.

**Summary:** December, a time to reflect on the memories…

**A/N: **song inspiration, song inspiration, _My December_, by Linkin Park

* * *

It's December. I have to admit that it's never really been my time of year. I had always hated it when I was living with the Dursleys. Every winter, I'd become a human target for Dudley and his gang. See who can give Potter a black eye. 

It was always too hot in the broom cupboard. I never got more than a dirty old sheet with huge holes in it. But then again, the heater was positioned directly below the stairs, there fore directly above my broom cupboard. I hated being inside all the time, because Aunt Petunia would always be ordering me to either, defrost the plumbing under the house, or shovel the snow from the driveway. Then I would hate being outside because I would get attacked by snowballs or miniature dogs donnedwith crocheted jackets from up the street.

Sometimes I would love winter. Some mornings I would go out and get the morning paper before it got too soggy so Uncle Vernon wouldn't yell at me. On those mornings I would wait outside in my pajamas and watch the sun rise. It was always so clear – not a cloud in the sky. It was also beautiful, looking down the street, seeing all the streetlamps dangling with icicles that rang like flutes in the breeze. Seeing all the trees covered in a fresh layer of snow. Watching the cranky old man across the street chuck a fit because his car was bogged in and that he'd be late for work because he'd have to dig it out.

Its winter now, and Ron and the twins are having a snow ball fight in my front yard. We're at Godric's Hollow. It took all of my savings converted to Muggle money to buy this place. It had been on sale ever since my parents had been murdered here, though no one had bought it. All the people in the neighborhood say that it's haunted. Sure, the plumbing does gurgle quite a bit, and I swear that there's a ghoul in the attic that only comes out when it's blowing a gale outside. In a way, I find it comforting to think that perhaps there's a remainder of my parents' spirits in this house.

I look up because I swear I hear Ginny laughing outside. But it's only Hermione. She's joined in the fight and is has Ron in a head lock, while Fred and George pelt him with snow balls. I look down disappointed as a huge lump rises in my throat. I miss her more than anything. Sometimes I think that I feel her in the bed late at night, so close that we're almost touching. But then I wake up and the bed's empty.

I get up from near the window and walk to the front door. I pull on my coat and snow boots. I go out the back door so that the others don't see me. I pull on my gloves then jam my beanie on my head. I never stop wearing this beanie. Ginny gave it to me when we were still back at school. My fifth year, her fourth. I bury my hands in my pockets to keep them warm as I trudge down to the gate at the back of Godric's Hollow. I can still hear the others laughter and I am glad, because it drowns out the sound of the gate creaking shut behind me.

There is a path that leads down to a frozen stream. The path is barely visible because of the few feet of snow. I walk along the stream bank a bit. There, is a beech tree planted long ago. I can tell that because it has my parents' initials carved into the bark, surrounded by a heart. At the base of this tree are two small, white, woodencrosses. On each of these, names are carved. On the first one, the oldest, is the name SIRIUS BLACK. It has a date on it beneath the name, some six years ago.

The second one is newer, but only by two years. On it is the name GINNY WEASLEY. It is dated, like the first one, for four years ago.

As I kneel before the two crosses I remember the day that Ginny, my Ginny, died. Actually in all truth, she was murdered. It happened the June after Hogwarts had closed for good. Many of the students were home schooled by their parents, kept close and safe. Others, the older ones, left home to make themselves useful. Some got jobs at the Ministry; the Head of the Auror Office got a ton of applications that year, others in Diagon Alley. Some went on to become Healers at St. Mongo's. Some even became Death Eaters or gained other dark occupations, mainly those that had been in Slytheryn.

But Hermione, Ron, Ginny and I? Well I had already decided that I wasn't going back to that school. I didn't want Ron and Hermione to come with me, but I knew that no matter what I said that they were going to come anyway. Ginny had a shouting match with Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, the twins, Professor Lupin, Tonks and me. Last of all me. I had never wanted her to get into this mess that I had been thrown into. That's why I broke it off with her in the first place. But she was so very stubborn. She was worse than me, as Hermione reminded me so many times.

She wanted to come on this crazy rollercoaster ride that we were all on, hunting down the Horcruxes, defeating Death Eaters, aiming to kill Voldemort.

And we succeeded. But not without our fair share of losses. The first was Fleur. A month after her and Bill got married, Ron, Hermione and I set off on our quest. We began to hear rumours that Voldemort was getting bolder, going into more populated areas to kill those that opposed him. Fleur and Bill were living in London, close to Diagon Alley. We were on our way there for dinner and as we entered the street were their apartment was when we saw the Dark Mark suspended above the roofs. We ran, but we were too late.

That was when Ginny decided that she wanted to go with us. She never asked anyone if it was OK. She simply told them she was leaving. She came with us to Godric Hollow and to my parents' graves. I won't deny that she did come in handy in a tough situation. She always had an escape plan up her sleeve, and could be as crafty as Fred and George. In May we found the last Horcrux. Then I went after Voldemort. I told them all to stay at Godric's Hollow, but they wouldn't have it.

We turned up at the Riddle House, sure that he would be there. A small, quick battle ensued and we managed to capture two Death Eaters, one being Bellatrix Lastrange, while Voldemort escaped. That's when we found that Ginny had been struck by the _Avada Kedavra _curse that had been meant for me.

I still remember it to this day, the look upon Ginny's face. It was set with a fierce determination to win, to never give up. She went down fighting, and that's how she told me that she wanted to go, the night before that when she came to my room. She hadn't wanted to die as an old woman, sitting in an ancient rocking chair until the end of her days.

Hermione and Ron cried. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley cried. Everyone cried. But I never.

Now, as I kneel before her grave in the freezing cold snow, I cry. Hot, salty tears stream from my eyes and I howl with anger and pain. The pain of losing the one woman I loved. The anger at my self that I wasn't able to keep her safe. Hermione tells me that I will always have memories of her, and I hang onto them like a safety blanket, like it's the only thing that keeps me sane.

During those times that I told her that she needed to stay away, I said some horrible things to her. I tried to take them back, but I knew that there was nothing I could say that would excuse it. In the end she forgave me, but we were more distant than before. But when she came to my room, and we made love like lovers do, it was like nothing had come between us.

I made Voldemort pay for what he did to Ginny, and his wand is now buried in the frozen ground beneath my knees, at the bottom of Ginny's grave.

I hear footsteps and know that Ron and Hermione have come to see what is howling by the stream. They find me, and I feel their hands beneath my arms as they lift me to my feet and direct me back towards the house. I let them and cast one last look towards Ginny's grave. Tomorrow is Christmas Day and the surviving others from the Order of the Phoenix are coming for lunch.

It is always winter that brings forwards these feelings. When it is clear and white, like Ginny's skin. So maybe December is my time of the year. Because it's a time to hold onto the memories of the times we had.


End file.
